by Dayna Quince
“A little bleeding is good. It's a sign that the tissue is healthy. As it heals, the bleeding will lessen, but a little fresh blood is a good thing.”
“Remind me again what makes you an expert?”
“I’ve studied Dr. Hadley’s methods extensively,” Luna returned. She had no patience for his condescension. Not when it was she who actually did something for Lord Densmore.
“Forgive me, I fail to see how—”
“Enough, Theo,” Lord Densmore ordered from the bed. “I trust her. She has proven herself more than capable.”
Mr. Denham’s face transformed into a hard mask. “Oh, you trust her? Bully for you, Miss Marsden. I’ve spent a lifetime with my brother and have never earned his trust.”
Lord Densmore’s declaration had caught her off-guard, but she dared not let her expression show the glowing warmth inside that his words had triggered. Not when it clearly had upset his brother.
But he trusted her? Had anyone ever said those words to her? She knew her sisters trusted her, but this was far different. They knew her, and they’d seen her work. This man had no choice, and yet in such a short time, he’d come to trust her abilities as a healer. Something bright and incandescent swelled inside her. She kept her face down, her focus on the wound to hide her joy.
“She’s still no expert,” Mr. Denham muttered.
Luna’s anger grew. She would not let him diminish her pride in her work. “And where does your expertise lie?” She lifted her head and pinned him with a glare of challenge.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Cunnus Linguere. It’s a special talent.”
Beside her Lord Densmore tensed and growled a warning at his brother.
Luna sat up straighter. “That’s Latin, but I’m not familiar with the words. Josie is fluent in Latin.”
His expression brightened. “Is she? Well, I’d love to hear her translate the words for you.”
“Get out if you can’t be useful,” Lord Densmore barked.
“I made you tea, but I can see by your exhausted state that I needn’t chaperone. I’ll retire. See you in the morning, brother. Hopefully.”
Luna glared at his back as he left the room.
Chapter 10
“I'm sorry you had to bear witness to his insolence,” Densmore said as Luna finished packing the wound and began to bandage it again.
“Is that what having a brother is like?”
“You mean terrible?”
Luna couldn't help smiling, but then it fell away. She couldn't ignore the bitterness between them. She'd never experienced that between her and her sisters. Having grown up next door to the duke, Weirick, and his younger brother, Roderick, they had been her only example as far as brotherhood went. Their neighbor on the opposite side, Lord Chester, was an only child. It wasn't as if her sisters had never teased her or they'd never fought with each other. But boys tended to be crueler and that didn't seem to change as they grew into men.
She could sense there was more going on here. A deep wound, one that may never heal unless they both faced it.
She swallowed. “A wounded animal will bite when cornered,” she said.
He shifted, placing one hand behind him and leaning back, opening up his side to her so they almost faced each other. His gaze met hers. “You’re defending him now?”
“Goodness, no. He's been a beast to me all evening. He didn't like that I poked at his invisible wounds. He doesn't want to see them, and he didn’t want to believe me when I pointed out he has them.”
She focused on what her hands were doing because looking into his eyes made the world shift under her, and she was afraid she'd have no choice but to fall into him.
And where would that leave her? She’d earned his trust through the circumstance of this wound. He needed her. But that didn't mean he wanted her.
She finished tucking the end of the strip into the bandage, reluctant to pull her hands away from all that gorgeous male skin. Her gaze slowly drifted up his chest and she flinched, her hands naturally wanting to follow, to trace the hills and valleys of his muscles. She was most curious about his nipples. The dusky rose skin was pebbled and furled tightly as if shy about being exposed.
Her pulse increased. She wanted to touch them. Inside, something rose within her, an emotion she did not recognize, hot and wicked. It thickened her blood, made her dress feel extra tight, and made her thoughts far from innocent.
Desire. What magic was this?
She was very aware that she was ogling him now, but she couldn't stop. Her eyes rose slowly, her mouth dry. She licked her lips as she surveyed his broad shoulders and the unique way his muscles and tendons and bones were covered by golden skin. He was living art. A true specimen of manhood, the glory of what it was to be human.
Luna blinked as her hand entered her field of vision, and she froze as if she was outside her own body, watching herself touch his shoulder, frozen with panic as her rebellious hand caressed his chest, her fingertips brushing across his clavicle to the other shoulder. As if he were a living statue and she only admiring the fine talents of the sculptor.
She sucked in a breath and drew her hand away, but he caught it between them and placed it over his heart. Their gazes locked, and under her hand she could feel the steady thump, thump, thump.
“I'm sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I didn't mean…”
“You've likely never seen a man undressed before.”
She shook her head. “No. I've never been able to examine the male form in person. Only in books.”
She tried to make it sound as if her only interest was academic, but it was all a lie. She'd wanted to touch him. She'd never felt so alive as she did just then, warm skin under her hands, the erratic thumping of his heart. Was he in pain? Or was he feeling it too? The tension weaving between them. Tying itself like a knot, tighter and tighter until it couldn't be unraveled.
What was she doing? This wasn't part of his care. This wasn't part of healing. This was purely her own wants spilling over and she had to stop it. If he wasn't feeling the same way, he might not allow her to come back and finish treating his wound.
She licked her lips. “I should go.”
“We stopped doing what we should be doing a long time ago, Luna.”
He’d said her name. Her heart skipped around with glee, a child with a sweet treat hidden in her pocket. And it carried none of the formality, like when he said Miss Lunette. The way he said Luna carried familial charity, his trust, and maybe… She hoped…affection too.
“I'm sorry, I should have asked permission. But I think given the circumstances, we can dispense with given names when we're alone. Unless you'd like me to call you doctor?” He smiled.
Luna wanted to melt into a puddle right there. “I will confess it brings me great pleasure to hear you say doctor, but Luna will suffice.”
His smile deepened and he raised a brow. “Great pleasure?”
“My greatest dream is to be a real physician. But that will never happen. I know that. So even if you call me doctor in jest, it’s still just a little further than I was before. At least you recognize I am trying. It's as close as I may ever get.”
He sobered. “You deserve to have all your dreams come true.”
Luna prayed she didn't appear as lovestruck as she felt. Such words had never been said to her, nor had she ever thought they would be. A new dream rapidly formed inside her, perhaps a hopeless dream, but dreams were not built on hope and practicality. They were built on stardust.
Could this be it? Could she be falling for him?
And could he…return her affection? Was this what falling in love felt like?
She sucked in a breath. “Thank you, my lord—I mean…” She frowned. “You have not yet given me leave to use your name.”
“I haven't? Oh, only my brother uses my given name, but now you may as well. You have seen my insides, after all. My name is Callen.”
Callen, Callen, Callen, Callen, Callen.
She rep
eated it over and over in her head, too giddy and exuberant to say it out loud without giggling.
“My brother is Theo, Theodore, which he hates to be called so use that weapon wisely.”
“Lunette Esmeralda Marsden. No fancy titles to follow.”
“Dr. Lunette Esmeralda Marsden.”
She couldn't help giggling. Just hearing the words come from him made little stars of joy burst inside her, like bubbles of champagne in her blood.
He was still quite shirtless. They were sitting together on his bed intimately. She checked the time on the mantle clock above the hearth, and it was growing quite late. He must be tired. And she should be tired. But she didn't want to leave, not yet.
“You need to get more sleep,” she said.
“I've been sleeping all day. I'm awake now.”
“More sleep will make you better. The more you rest, the faster your wound will heal. Doctor's orders.” She couldn't help the slow grin that claimed her mouth.
He grinned back at her. “The power has gone to your head.”
“Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
He chuckled and Luna joined in, but then he winced and grabbed his side.
“See? Look what I've done.” She scooted off the bed. “You must go back to bed. You had your tea. I'm sure it won't take very long to fall back to sleep.”
He adjusted himself, lying back against the pillows and pulling the coverlet to his chest. Luna busied herself with putting her supplies away so she wouldn't just be standing there, staring at him like she wished to. She picked up her satchel and turned to bid him good night. He reached out and touched her hand.
“Despite Theo’s dire warning, I plan to be alive in the morning.”
“That is good. Half the battle is keeping the patient alive. The other half is the patient's will to be alive.”
“More wisdom from Dr. Hadley?”
“No. That is my own assessment. Goodnight, Callen.”
“Goodnight, doctor.”
Luna turned down his oil lamp on the nightstand and left the room. She was confident he would be there in the morning just as handsome and just as shirtless. Her feet dragged down the hall, either from exhaustion or sheer revolt against leaving. But there was always tomorrow, she reminded her rebellious feet. He would be the first thing she thought of when she woke. She’d have to wake early to tend him before the rest of the house stirred.
She smiled, despite the gritty heaviness of her eyelids. She was already looking forward to it.
Chapter 11
Click.
Callen opened his eyes, his vision blurry. He wasn't sure if he was truly awake or merely dreaming, but his mind and his vision would not clear. He catalogued the sensations in his body; he was at the very least alive just as he’d promised. That is, unless he was dreaming or in some in between state between heaven and hell.
He blinked several times, but he still couldn't see. The light was weak and gray, the air cool on his skin. Those two things informed him it must be early morning before the sun had fully risen.
He could sense someone moving about the room.
It must be the scullery maid, there to build up the fire again. He let his eyes rest, planning to feign sleep until she left, but the person drew closer to the bed and a warm hand touched his brow.
Her knuckles dragged across his skin and the single movement was enough to awaken every fiber in his body. He reached up and grabbed her hand, holding it there to his cool brow, and heard her indrawn breath.
Maybe the scullery girl, Matilda? Was that her name? Had she taken leave of her senses? Which was not at all likely in a fine household such as this. Weirick only hired the best. The mere girl of fifteen would not be so bold as to touch a man while he slept.
He knew exactly who would dare touch him.
He felt her with an awareness that resonated deep into his bones, and a part of him had already known it was her all along. Her touch only confirmed he was indeed deeply in tune to her, his senses reaching out for her when she was close.
Luna, his angel of torture and mercy.
He couldn't yet explain the deep sense of calm her presence brought him or understand how absurd it was that he could so easily trust her with his life. This girl—nay, this woman—may be innocent and inexperienced in the world, but to call her a girl was an insult. She had an understanding about life that not even he had yet to experience. Her circumstances had shaped her into a caring, vibrant person that made him want to laugh even as she was poking at his insides with a knitting needle. He now fully understood what a person meant when they used the euphemism “like a breath of fresh air.”
Just being near her seemed to open him. He could breathe deeper. Something crisp and sweet filled him from his toes to his head as if all his blood had been replaced with fresh spring water. He simply felt better being in her presence, and he didn't know where these feelings had come from.
He thought he knew himself. He thought he understood the type of man he was. He was mostly strained in his life from dealing with his routine duties and arguing with his brother.
There was something about Luna, when she was near, when his eyes rested on her, that made all of that fade away. All his focus centered on her, and it was as though a weight lifted off his chest and he could breathe again. As if a mask was removed from his eyes and he could see again, but all he wanted to see was her because she was the cause of all these wonderful things, the relief he hadn't known he'd needed.
A balm to his soul.
He opened his eyes just a crack and there she stood, peering at him, just waiting, no panic in her eyes as he held her hand to his forehead with a grip that might have been just a hair too tight. Not because she'd startled him but because he was afraid to let go. Afraid she might leave and take with her all the lovely sweet relief she brought.
This was madness.
He had to let her go, for now and forever, because he was nothing more than a sham spy using her gift for healing to recover so he could leave. And when he did, his life and his focus would all be on his brother, and he'd be back in that dismal state of despair he hadn't realized he'd been living in until this moment.
His heart pounded. He never knew he'd been unhappy until tasting the brief bite of happiness in her company. His grip on her wrist lessened, and she pulled her hand away.
“I hope I didn't startle you. I wanted to check on you before the rest of the house woke.”
“It's all right. I knew it was you, I think. Or maybe I was still dreaming,” he said.
“I hope they were good dreams?” she asked.
He couldn't remember. He'd slept deep, a result of that wondrous tea she made. She drifted away, back toward the fire, and positioned the kettle over the flames, mixing ingredients in a teacup.
He watched with a smirk. She looked like a witch, tendrils of hair falling around her face, a haphazard knot of hair crowning her head as if it might topple over at any moment.
She wore a drab brown cloak that completed her witch persona to perfection.
He wanted to know what she was wearing under the cloak. Was she dressed for the day? Was she still in her nightgown? He closed his eyes and imagined a virginal white nightgown, something that would never have stirred his interest before, but the image of Luna in such a garment made his blood turn hot with a fever he hadn't had upon waking. Desire began to build in his body, and he tightened his fists around the sheet covering his lower torso because he could already feel his staff hardening. He would not be able to explain to her why certain parts of his body were stiffer than others.
He was hard because he wanted to see her in her nightgown. He wanted to peel it from her skin with his teeth and expose what was underneath. Her body, naked and soft and entirely his. He would have no doubt he would be the first man to ever touch her. As knowledgeable as she was in her healing art, she'd admitted she'd never seen a naked man, not one that didn't exist on the page in the book. He felt entirely selfish regarding her and
wanting to be the only man she would ever see. At the very least, the one man that she would compare every man to after he was gone.
He'd wanted many things in his life, but very few of them had been so far out of his reach as Miss Lunette Marsden. Women, the kind he usually consorted with—widows, independently wealthy spinsters who didn't fit in the circles of polite society—came easily to him, a handsome, wealthy lord. But there was an invisible wall between him and Luna, and it wasn't just because of their station.
She was alone, essentially. He had his brother, he had society's expectations wanting him to conform to the rule that he only ought to marry a woman equal to him or who might elevate his already elevated status. But those things were insignificant compared to the onslaught of desire that coursed through him for Luna.
The invisible wall was neither his title nor society. It was far more complex than that. Deeper than just a lie that he told her about being a spy, an agent of the Crown here on some noble mission to protect them all.
Christ, what had he been thinking? The lie alone could make her hate him. But the real reason he couldn't have her, the one born of deep-seated resentment and anger, even jealousy and love, was his brother.
As impossible as it seemed, he loved his brother. Much like his parents had, he’d taken on the job of keeping his brother out of trouble, which he seemed to fall into as easily as he breathed.
That was the wall that separated.
Because after all these years of looking out for Theo, he'd forgotten how to do anything else other than his duties to the title. He was consumed by worry and resentment. He didn't know how to be anything else. Look where it got him, shot, on the cusp of leaving his king and country behind to keep his brother from hanging for murder. He'd given up everything for Theo, and the sting was never more bitter than it was now as he watched Luna prepare that cup of tea.
He would eventually have to give her up too and this consistent contentment. She inspired this greedy insatiable gluttony for her attention. It ravaged him. He'd never had someone make him the focus of their concern, the single occupant of their tender care. It had always been Theo. For the first time, it was for him and he was desperate for it, desperate for her, and he never wanted it to end.